


Buy Me a Drank

by walkydeads



Series: Thirty Minutes or Less: The Delivery Boy Chronicles of Glenn Rhee [2]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Racism, Slight guilt over homosexual attraction, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkydeads/pseuds/walkydeads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn makes another delivery to the Dixon household and has a bit of a run in with the law.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buy Me a Drank

Glenn sighed as he - once again - got an order for the Dixon household.

It didn’t fill him with the annoyance and trepidation that it usually did though, now that he had a name to put with the younger Dixon’s face. He knew - despite the specific demand that usually meant Merle was orchestrating things completely for his own benefit - that Daryl would probably be the one answering the door, and it was a relief.

He had begun to feel like Merle somehow knew his secret shame and was trying to humiliate him by making him face Daryl over and over. But honestly, Glenn was grateful. He and Daryl had never met before he got the job at the pizza place, and he very seriously doubted they’d cross paths without it. And without Merle’s interference - although he was loathe to admit that anywhere near the elder Dixon - he’d have nothing worthwhile to fantasize about.

Though, now that he’d moaned Daryl’s name into a pillow a few nights in a row, it might be kind of hard to make eye contact with him.

Regardless, for the second time that week he loaded the pizza up, making a stop at a convenience store to buy a couple six packs of Newcastle (Merle’s drink of choice) and a six pack of Budweiser (Daryl’s favorite) as per their request, being sure to keep the receipt. The girl behind the counter tried to flirt, as she always did, and he politely ignored it. If only she knew…

By the time Glenn rounded the corner onto the Dixon’s street, there was a patrol car parked out front. That wasn’t out of the ordinary, as the neighbors would often call the cops on Merle for practicing his shooting in the middle of the day or having loud parties or explicitly threatening people who walked on his property without his permission. Even so, Merle was hardly ever arrested, as the cops were either sympathetic for some reason or Daryl had calmed him down enough to speak rationally with authorities.

This time, it didn’t seem to be anything serious. The patrol car’s lights weren’t on and one of the officers sat in the passenger seat munching on a burger. “Sup, pizza man?” he asked, mouth full of food.

Glenn nodded.

“Always see you ‘round here,” the guy said after choking down the food in his mouth and taking a gulp of soda, “Them Dixons must really like pizza, huh?”

“I guess,” Glenn shrugged, shifting the boxes in his hands, “I mean if Merle did any cooking, the fire department would be right out here with you, probably.”

The officer chuckled in a way that told Glenn he didn’t actually find what he said funny in the slightest before shifting in his seat and opening his door, “Alright, kid. Why don’t you let me take a look at those pizzas before you take them up to old Merle, huh?”

Glenn took a step back, “Why?”

“Shane, what the hell are you doing?” A voice came from behind Glenn and he turned. The other officer, the one Merle always sarcastically referred to as ‘Officer Friendly’ was walking back up the path, “We’re leaving, Merle’s contained. Apologized for causing a fuss and everything. We’ve got better things to do.”

“Oh, come on!” Shane exclaimed, all but childishly stomping his feet in protest. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “You and I both know that redneck fucker is on meth. At least. And for all we know, this kid is supplying him! We gotta check. He could be getting his fix right under our noses.”

“I’m not--” Glenn tried to speak, but the other officer held up a hand, halting him.

“We have no reason to think that,” he said in a calming voice.

“Well if he ain’t doing anything wrong, he’s got nothing to hide,” Shane insisted, pointing at Glenn, emphasizing every word by jabbing his finger in his direction. “I mean, what would someone like him be doing on this side of town anyway?”

“My job,” Glenn pointed out, beginning to get a little irritated at this guy’s attitude.

“I’m just sayin’ is all. You’re in this neighborhood a lot, but you ain’t never been jumped by all these neo-Nazis walking around which is nothing short of a goddamn miracle unless you’re providing them with something they want.”

“I am,” Glenn replied wryly, holding up the insulated bag full of pizza boxes, “Food.”

“We’re leaving, Shane. We aren’t doing this right now. You ain’t gotta try to play hero on every goddamn call we get.”

“For the record,” Glenn said as the other officer all but hauled his partner back to the car, “I’ve never been treated by anyone in this neighborhood with the suspicion and contempt you just threw my way. Including Merle.”

That might have been a mistake.

Shane wrangled himself out of the other officer’s grip and was in Glenn’s face before he could get so much as a word out. “You wanna mouth off at me again, boy?”

“Shane,” the other officer said sternly just as the door to the Dixon household opened and Daryl and Merle both came out.

“I thought we established there wasn’t a problem here,” Daryl said, crossing his arms, “So, with all due respect here, what the hell’re ya’ll still doin’ on my property?”

“We thought it was a little suspicious that a pizza boy pulled up just as we were getting ready to leave is all,” Shane said, his gaze moving from Glenn to his car, parked behind the cruiser, “And well well well, what do we have here? Couple six packs in the passenger seat. Any of those open, kid? You even old enough to drink?”

“I’m twenty-two,” Glenn said, glaring steadily at him, “And they were a special request.” He held the receipt out to the less antagonistic officer, who took it with a polite nod.

“You get these kinds of requests from the Dixons often?” Officer Friendly asked.

“Yeah,” Glenn shrugged, “It’s not usually much trouble and it’s kind of in our job description for us to do whatever a customer wants within reason, so. I’m the only driver we got right now that’s old enough to buy beer so I’m usually the only one that gets sent out this way.”

“What other kinds of ‘special requests’ do you get?” Shane said, advancing on Glenn again, reaching out for his pizza bag. Officer Friendly’s hand on his wrist stopped him, if only barely.

Daryl stepped in front of Glenn, and to his surprise, Merle did too.

“You ain’t gonna touch him,” Daryl said lowly, “You’re gonna get in your car and go help people that actually need help or fix things that actually need fixing. I know our rights. You were called on Merle and if you don’t see fit to take him in, I’m going to have to kindly ask you to get the hell off our property.”

“Let’s go, Shane,” The other officer said lowly, and this time the man actually complied, rubbing his scalp in frustration as he got back into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

“Sir, I’m not--” Glenn said to the officer, who was making his way back to the driver’s side. The officer held up a hand.

“I know. He’s new. A little overzealous. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t apologize for Shane (Officer Walsh, Daryl called him bitterly, along with another few choice names), but Glenn took what he could get. Merle opened the passenger side door to his car and got out the beer.

“Stick around for a drink or two, kid,” he invited, “Get your wits about you.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, “I mean, if you got the time.”

“This was my last delivery,” Glenn said, “But I do got to get back to the store and sort my money out and stuff.”

“Wanna come back by after?”

Glenn took in the desperation in Daryl’s voice and desperately tried to rationalize it. Had to be hard to make friends when your brother was a dick and seemed to enjoy causing problems for everyone. Couldn’t be because Daryl actually liked him or anything.

He thought about it for a moment and nodded, giving Daryl a small smile “Yeah, I could do that.”

The smile Daryl gave him back practically made his toes curl. He’d never seen his face look like that before. And if Glenn had thought he was hot all quiet and stern-faced and brooding, he was damn near flawless with a smile on his face. Short of saying anything like that, though, Glenn just gave him the total for his items and his beer (which ended up being more than the pizza itself) and Daryl handed him a crisp one hundred dollar bill for his troubles.

“Hurry back,” he said seeming surprised at himself, “Before Merle drinks everything we got in the house, I mean.”

Glenn ducks into his car and drives back in a bit of a hurry. Settling his money for the evening, he finds he made about 80$ in tips alone and a fourth of that had just come from Daryl. He tried not to think too hard about where Daryl got the money and instead focused on getting all of his duties done so he could go ahead and go. Luckily, his coworkers saw that he was rushing for something and cut him a little slack, saying he could go ahead and go. 

He grabbed a plain black t-shirt from his backseat and pulled it on, leaving his work shirt in the back and tossing his baseball cap back there as well. Fixing his hair was hopeless, so he let it be as it was and took back off for the Dixon house.

Arriving there, the lights inside were dull, but the porch light had been left on. He hoped and assumed they actually expected him to show up. When he knocked, it took Merle a few minutes to get the door, and he was visibly drunk when he did.

“Well, lookie here. No need to get all dolled up on our account, Glenn,” he slurred, cocking an eyebrow, “My dear old brother likes you just fine in your uniform.”

“Shut up and sit down, Merle,” Daryl grumbled, “Fore you fall on your damn face.”

Glenn took in the appearance of the house; it was surprisingly clean. The walls were all painted a flat gray. The hardwood floors could use a new finish, but they were alright. Most of the furniture was black, the cheap kind you could buy at Wal Mart and assemble without tools. The only expensive looking thing was the TV, big and mounted to the wall. Merle flopped down in an old reclaimed recliner, and the only other available seat was next to Daryl on the futon, so Glenn took it, grabbing a beer along the way. He took care not to sit too close.

The two of them had been watching a UFC fight of some sort. Glenn didn’t really follow it or care, but it wasn’t entirely without his merits, he supposed. The way the men’s bodies moved together was downright erotic in some ways, though neither Daryl nor Merle seemed to notice. Occasionally, one of them would yell at the TV - either in encouragement or aggravation - and Glenn would jump, startled.

Truthfully, the whole experience was a little awkward, but Glenn didn’t mind. He could imagine the inside of Daryl’s house now, could now intimately picture what it’d be like to be fucked against the closed front door, or Daryl’s futon. Could picture the two of them cuddling on the couch while Merle was out of town or something. And being able to just be next to Daryl, relaxing with him, isn’t something he ever thought would happen. Every so often, Daryl would relax and his knee or arm would brush Glenn’s, and it was pathetically more than he could ever actually hope for.

He knew he was imagining things when the touches started to linger. When he asked Glenn to grab him a beer since he was closer and seemed to have scooted closer to his spot when he returned. When his knee would stay against Glenn’s for seconds at a time or the way his fingers ghosted over Glenn’s when he passed the beer over. Glenn hadn’t been amped up over physical contact this minimal since high school and he was a little embarrassed by the fact that he was already hard. But he did his best to put that at the back of his mind and focus on the match. It didn’t help much, but he did end up becoming interested in the actual fight by the end of it.

“Told you Weidman would take it,” Merle gloated to his brother after the match.

“I don’t remember arguing with you ‘bout it,” Daryl grumbled in response, although he’d clearly been rooting for the other guy during the match. They bickered over it amicably for the next few minutes until Merle got up and stretched, yawning almost theatrically.

“Welp, I better get on to bed. Big day tomorrow,” Merle shot his brother a glance that Glenn felt sure he wasn’t supposed to pick up on and Daryl glared daggers at him in return.

Glenn stood, “I should probably get going, too.”

Merle disappeared down a hallway and Daryl walked with Glenn to the front door, opening it for him. “Thanks for coming back out tonight,” he said softly, “I hope you had a good time.”

“Yeah, thanks for inviting me,” Glenn nodded, his heart pounding. He stood in the threshold, suddenly reluctant to leave.

“You’re welcome to come by pretty much anytime you like,” Daryl says, “When we’re both off work, I mean. Not everyone can put up with Merle, you know?”

Glenn blinked at him, “Yeah, sure. Do you have a number I could call to make sure you’re around if I ever wanna drop by?”

Daryl nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Hang on just a second.”

He came back with it written on a spare piece of paper, his fingers lingering again as he passed it over. Glenn stared down at the digits for a moment, uncomprehending, before folding it and stuffing it into his pocket.

“Cool,” he breathed. 

“Yeah,” Daryl replied, “Oh! But texting would probably be better. I’m not too good with talkin’.”

“Seem alright to me,” Glenn said comfortingly, “But yeah. Texting works for me, too.”

They stood there for a few moments, Glenn knowing he should leave but feeling unwilling to tear himself away and Daryl smiling in a way Glenn desperately didn’t want to interrupt. Somewhere in the house, Merle’s voice called out, “Just kiss him already!”

Daryl turned back inside to tell Merle off, and the spell was broken from there.

Glenn nodded and laughed awkwardly before saying his goodbyes and Daryl did much the same, waving him off and saying something about making sure he got back to his car safe. He only closed the door and turned the porch light off once Glenn was pulling away. Bitterly, Glenn thought to himself about what a dick Merle was, and how he really didn’t need to be dragged through the mud by someone like him for liking dudes. Even if the dude in question was Merle’s brother.

Shamefully, Glenn’s half-erection was full blown by the time he got back to his apartment. He slammed the door behind himself, not even bothering to turn on any of the lights along the way. He collapsed against his mattress fully clothed, rutting lazily against it as he kicked off his socks and shoes. Imagining Daryl behind him, holding him face down against his futon by the neck and whispering filthy things into his ear, it barely took him any time at all to cum. 

Only when he came down from it all did he realize he was shaking.

There was a downside, he supposed, to having his fantasies more fleshed out. When Daryl was just a concept, just the hot redneck guy who tipped him well and sometimes came to the door shirtless, it was safe to dream of being in his arms, of the things he might say against the skin of Glenn’s neck. But Glenn had seen a good side of him, a side of him that feircely protected the people he cared about and welcomed people into his home at the slightest sign of loyalty in return. He was lonely, and Glenn abusing that for his own spank bank made him feel kind of gross and guilty.

He reached into his pocket and felt the paper Daryl’s number was written on. Maybe he could make up for it by showing Daryl he cared about him. By being a good friend. He knew that Daryl didn’t know he was thinking about him while jacking off, but that was hardly a comfort. Sending him a text saying ‘This is Glenn, thanks again for having me over!’ helped, though.

After that, he god in the shower, which helped alleviate a little of his shame and guilt. He knew deep down that it was natural to get off to the thought of someone you wanted, but there was years of his sexuality being repressed by his parents getting in the way of that at the moment. As many men as he’d liked over the course of his life, this was the first he’d ever gotten close enough to for it to be a problem, so of course it was now that the lingering doubts from his high school years reared their ugly head again. As he toweled off, he heard his phone beep.

One new text.

It was from Daryl. It said, simply ‘Thank you for letting me know you made it home safe :)’ and it immediately melted the ice in Glenn’s gut. He knew it was stupid, but he wanted Daryl enough to be unashamed and happy with whatever he could get. Fuck the guilt that would creep up on him. There was nothing wrong with being there for someone he was growing to care about.

He fell asleep still smiling at his phone.


End file.
